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THE MINNEAPOLIS JOTTBNAL SUMMER FICTION STTPPIEMEHTSATITBDAY, JTTLY 11, 1908.
THE BUST OF CLYTIE * (Copyright, 1903, by P. A, Carpenter.) O NE August day. about three years ago, I was summoned to Boston by telegram for consulta tion in a case that had bothered the police offi cials of that city to such an extent that they were obliged to call in outside help. Generally I made the trip on the Fall River boat, but the urgency of the telegram forced me to lose no time, and 3 o'clock in the afternoon found me seated in the smoking com partment of a coach on the "Flyer." I had lighted a cigar, when the door opened and a tall, broad-shouldered gentleman entered and sat down opposite to me. At first I felt annoyed, for I wished to meditate upon the case to which I was going but, after another glance at the newcomer I resigned myself to a possible conversation with him. --Minute after minute passed by and my com panion did not speak. Presently he started, as if from an unpleasant reverie, and took from his inner coat pocket a handsome cigar case with a gold monogram upon it. Open ing it, his eyes dwelt dreamily upon the photograph of a woman as he slowly drew out a perfecto. When he raised his hand I noticed a peculiar ring on the third finger. It was a snake's head looking out from between the arms of a letter "V" made of small diamonds, while the eyes of the snake were beautifully clear emeralds. Then I recollected that I had seen a similar ring at a fencing exhibition of the Manhattan Club the previous winter. This man had won a final against Alex. "Van Cruger, a rising young sculptor, and I remembered the circumstance the more easily because it had been said there was ill feeling between the men. Van Cruger had won the hand of a society belle at whose shrine my present companion had worshiped with hopes of success. But Van Cruger, young, handsome, rich, bearing home the laurels of European triumphs, appeared in social circles and bore off one more of the world's prizes, the love of Helen Maitland. The ring had attracted my attention at the fencing match by its peculiar design. I bad some curious jewels my self, and had read what literature I could find upon the sub ject. It seemed to me. as I looked at the ring, that I had read of such a design before in some historical connection. I longed to question Mr. Hamilton, for suCh was the name of the gentleman who now sat opposite me. ' During a ride of about three hours my companion did not speak to me, but sat gazing moodily out of the window. There was something about the man that I did not like not the signs of stern resolution and an indomitable will that his features bore, but the gleam of cruelty and treach ery that occasionally crept into his eyes. - At the Newport Junction he left the coach and boarded the waiting Newport train. I remembered having read in the fashionable items of a late daily that Miss Maitland's people were in their Newport residence, and also that Van Cruger had been called to Paris by an order from the French government. I thought to myself: "Now that the field is clear *tny friend will have his innings over again, and it will be 'well played, if my study of his face is a correct one." Time passed and all thought of my afternoon trip and my silent companion had long since fled, when one day my chief sent for me. On the way from' my rooms uptown I bought a paper and read the notice of the death, by heart failure, of the talented young sculptor, Alex Van Cruger. He had been found dead upon his studio floor that morning by the janitor of the building where his rooms were. When I entered the office of the chief he asked me if I had heard of Van Cruger's death. Upon my reply that I had just been reading about it in the papers, he said: "Carroll, Miss Maitland is almost frantic with grief, and insists that Van Cruger was murdered. Now, that is all non sense, for Dr. Everett says there never was a plainer case of apparent heart failure. Still, you may as well go up to the studio and look around. Poor fellow' he had just been model ing a beautiful bust of Miss Maitland, and was found lying almost beneath it." When I reached Van Cruger's rooms I was admitted without difficulty. Upon a working table stood a clay model of Miss Maitland as Clytie, still unfinished and uncovered. Drawing the curtains I turned on the lights and began my search. Nothing seemed in disorder except for the usual lack of orderly arrangement in the studios of artists and sculptors. The hurried examination of the physician who had been called disclosed no wounds or abrasions. The sculptor had fallen, evidently standing before the bust. I looked at his hands. Upon the very tips of the fingers were faint, hardly He Only Obeyed Orders. Washington Star. Some time ago Lieutenant Colonel C. A. Williams, Twen ty-eighth infantry, commanding the post and prison at Lin gayen, issued an order that all animals dying in the vicinity of the town should be buried at least two feet under ground. The first burial under this order was the carcass of a caribou, and this work was done by some native prisoners, under the command of Corporal Qumn of Company M. Seventeenth in fantry. The body was dragged to a shallow cocoanut grove and deposited in a shallow excavation, but in such a way as to leave the rear half of the animal above ground. This action was regarded as a violation of the order and Corporal Quinn was placed under arrest. When asked to plead to the charges he stated with rare confidence that he had obeyed orders lit erally, and that as it required that animals should "be buried two feet under ground" it would have been a violation of the order if he had put all four feet of the animal .under. The defense was regarded as sufficient and the Corporal, who was undoubtedly Irish, was released from arrest. Cuba's Last Buccaneers. Harper's Weekly. As late as the year 1825 the waters adjacent to Porto Rico were infested by a bloodthirsty band of pirates, led by a Spaniard named Confrecinas. It was the proud boast of the buccaneer chief that tie neither gave nor asked quarter. In March of the year mentioned Captain John Drake Sloat, who twenty-one years later raised the American flag over Califor nia, was placed in command of the sloop-of-war Grampus, with orders to proceed to the West Indies arid wipe the pirates off the ocean. The Grampus cruised for some weeks without catching sight of any pirate vessel. One morning, while the sloop was lying at anchor in the harbor of San Juan, a man who had swum ashore from a merchant vessel captured by Confrecinas, reported that the pirate brig was anchored in the Boca de Inferno (Mouth of Hell), an obscure harbor some miles up the coast, waiting to attack a heavily laden schooner which was to sail from San Juan that very day. ^ I S-jh ! discernible traces of clay. That drew my attention to the bust itself. It bora marks of fingers and modeling tools. As I looked at it closely, just where the' beautiful curves of the bust emerged from the flower petals, I saw a faint gleam of light, and bending over discovered, to my surprise, a small diamond lying in the clay. I did not at first remove it, but gazed ear nestly at the surface of the surrounding clay. I remembered seeing a large reading lens near a portfolio of European photographs. Taking it up I returned to the bust. As I stooped "bending over to study it with the glass, a pencil that I had hastily placed in my outside pocket on stepping from the car fell. Picking it up from the edge of the rug I saw, lying close to the rug, a small quill. It was a camel's hair brush. I laid it down and continued my careful scrutiny. Long and steadily I looked at the embedded gem. Suddenly, as I moved my hand, there burst faintly but vividly upon my startled consciousness the imprint of the letter "V" in dots in one arm of which the diamond rested. To my as tonishment and with a dimly defined feeling of horror, I saw a snake's head looking out from the "V." Like a flash there came to my startled mind the ring of the companion or my last summer's trip to Boston and the story told about him. I removed the diamond. Just then there was a knock at the studio door. Unlocking it I admitted Dr. Everett. Hardly thinking, I gave him the brush and asked hhn if he had ever seen Van Cruger using such a brush in his work, for he was an intimate friend of the dead sculptor and often visited him while he worked. "Why, no," he answered. "I don't know that I ever have and I can't imagine what he could do with it here, for he never used colors or oil." " That called his attention to the bust and he said: "How lovingly Alex worked upon that Clytie. Yesterday afternoon Hamilton and I came in here, and, as we pushed aside the portiere I really believe he was kissing the statue." "Hamilton!" I exclaimed, "I thought" "Yes," he broke in, "I know they were on rather distant terms last year, but since Van Cruger's return from Paris a close friendship seemed to exist between them. "Why, yes," he continued, as he bent over the bust "I am sure he was kissing its lips, and I believe there is a mus tache hair there now." Sure enough, almost hidden from sight, but lying between the half-parted lips, was a fine, dark-brown hair. I took it away carefully by the aid of my pencil. It was too fine for a mustache hair. My eyes caught sight of the little brush which the doctor had put down by the side of the bust. The hair was unmistakably from it. I finished my search and found no indications of any thing out of the way. The ehief smiled as I reported and said: "I thought so, but Miss Maitland was so disturbed and so positive of foul play." I went home, and, after dining and smoking, was about to go out when there wa sa whistle from the speaking tube connecting with the door which called my attention. "Who is there?" I asked. "Is Mr. Carroll in?" a feminine voice asked. I replied "Yes." Opening the door, I found a beautiful woman in street attire, whose veil, flung hastily aside, dis closed a face bearing marks of mental anguish. She stepped inside, closed the door behind her, and said: "You are Mr. Carroll, the detective?" "Yes." "I am Helen Maitland, and have been sent to you for confirmation of the report just given me at the office of the chief of police in the case of Mr. Van Cruger. Ever since I was told of his death, I have been sure he was murdered." "What possible reason was there for the murder of Mr. Van Cruger?" I asked. "He had no enemies." "He had an enemy, a cruel, revengeful enemy, who had sworn to kill him before he would see me his wife," she said, with such a cry of anguish that went to my heart. I waited a moment for her to collect herself, and then said, as kindly as I could: "That is a strange statement, Miss Maitland." "It is the truth, but his name shall never pass my lips until the truth is discovered," she sobbed again. I stood with my hands in my coat pockets. I felt some thing unusual, and drew out the little brush I had found in the sculptor's room. "Did you ever see such an article in Mr. Van Cruger's studio?" I asked, holding it out to her. Why I asked I don't know. She took it, looked at it. and said: "No, I don't re member." She attempted to place it on a desk close by her side, but it fell from her trembling hand. My cat, Dandy, a / Confrecinas knew the Grampus well, so to make sure of his prey, Captain Sloat placed a heavily armed crew and cannon loaded with grape on board the schooner and sallied forth. The pirates, unsuspecting any resistance, bore down on the disguised vessel, with the black flag and skull and cross bones at the brig's masthead. Not a move was made by Sloat and his crew until the vessels were almost alongside, when the marines arose from the deck and poured a deadly fire into the brig. Confrecinas rallied his men, and for some time kept up a running fight, showing great skill in manipulating his crip pled vessel. He was finally forced to run his brig" ashore. Forty of the crew, with the buccaneer chief, were captured by the waiting soldiers. They were taken to San Juan, court martialed the next day, and shot. Confrecinas was the last to die. When they attempted to bind his eyes he threw the men aside, ridiculed the priest, and exclaimed in a loud voice: "I have slain hundreds with my own hands, and I know how to die. Fire!" He fell pierced by many bullets, the last and most bloodthirsty of the buccaneers of that region. " ~" Travel Is "Broadening." Washington Post. "Travel, sure, is a great thing, ain't it. for expanding the mind and developing the ambitions?" said a man from a little town in Central Pennsylvania. "There's an old maid in my town who has been making togs for the women of the place for more years, prob'ly than she would care to admit, and. until last fall, the sign tacked in front of the little shack where she lives with her parrot and cats, read this way: MAGGIE MONAHANk DRESSMAKER. . 4 "Well, after saving up for a good many years for the pur pose, Maggie was able at the close of last summer to take one of those forty-day Cook's tours of the continong, as they call it. I b'lieve Maggie spent all of four days in Paris. Any how, she hadn't been back in the little old Pennsylvania town twenty-four hours before a new sign took the place of the old one that had ornamented her shanty for so long. The new sign read this wayt , MLLE. MARGUERITE, ROBES ET MANTEAUX. "Sure, is broadening, kind o\ travel, isn't it?" " _ ~o *. - pn4a cr?i^"3,*^*rj?". fHs F-A- beautiful Maltese, seized it in her mouth and sprang away from my grasp. I let her go, as I said: "But. Miss Maitland, it is your duty to aid us in our search by telling us everything that might have a possible bearing upon it." "II cannot," she faltered, but I pleaded with her, and finally she said: "Well, I will tell you. I was once half engaged to Mr. Hamilton. He loved me, I believe, deeply and passionately. His is a nature to sacrifice anything to gain an object upon which he has set his desire. At Newport this summer, while Alex was in Paris, Mr. Hamilton told me he would kill any one who aspired to become my husband, and swore a terrible oath of vengeance against Alex. I was angry, forbade him the house, and refused to meet him until Alex came back. What power he exercised over Alex I do not know, but they became great'friends. But look! look!" she cried, pointing to Dandy, who had given one bound into the air, and then fell motionless on the rug where she had been playing. A trem ble ran over her body, and my pretty pet was dead. She still held the brush she had seized, with the brush end in her mouth. Instantly the whole devilish scheme flashed across my mind, and turning I said to Miss Maitland: "You are right. He was murderedpoisoned. There is the proof and on that brush is the confirmation of it." She reeled and fell into my arms. I laid her down and rang for the janitor. Taking a decanter of brandy I poured a little into a glass and forced it between her lips. As the janitor came in she revived a little. "My carriage, my maid," she faltered. The janitor hur ried to the stairs, and presently returned with a young woman who had come with Miss Maitland, and had waited below with the carriage. The maid and I half helped, half carried her down the stairs and got her into the carriage. I returned to my room, took the brush from the floor where it had fallen from the released jaw of the cat, wrapped it carefully in paper, put it securely in a large photograph book and hastened to the rooms of one of the best chemists in the United States. L told him the incident. "Come with me," he said, and we went into his little laboratory. He soaked the brush in alcohol. A few moments' testing with various reagents, a rapid changing of colors, and the chemist turned to me and said: "There is a combination of powerful alkaloids producing almost instant death when absorbed by the tissues. It is not necessary to swallow. Its absorption by the blood vessels of the lips or tongue is in stantaneous, and immediate paralysis of the heart ensues." "I have one more test for you to make," I said. "I will bring the material to-morrow." Bidding him good night, I went home to think over the most remarkable poisoning case I had ever heard of. In the morning I hurried to Van Cruger's studio, and carefully cut from the lips of the Clytie a thin film of clay. I carried it to the laboratory of the chemist. The same tests were applied with the same results. Van Cruger had been poisoned by a kiss Upon tne lips of his own Statue of his betrothed. The autopsy afterwards revealed the slight, tho noticeable change of tissue due to the action of the alkaloid poison. A careful washing of the artist's mustaette with alcohol again revealed the poison. " I did not know how to connect Hamilton with the murder. His former eminence as a toxicologist was evidence, how ever. His offices were searched by night, and his rooms by day. But no bottles of poisons were found, nor anything which would indicate, that he ever had any. The days went by. The sculptor's belongings were sold at public auction and Hamilton bought the clay bust of Clytie, Miss Maitland, having sailed for Europe. It was placed on a bracket directly over Hamilton's desk in his private office. When the tre mendous windstorm of the following October took place a huge ventilator top was blown from the opposite block and hurled with terrific force upon the Carter building. Clerks from the inner office, rushing into the private room, found Mr. Hamilton at his desk, his head upon his bands, his skull fractured, the heavy bust thrown from its support and broken into a hundred pieces. Plainly it had struck him as it fell. Upon lifting his head a small, bright red puncture was found in his forehead. Upon examination it was clearly seen to have been made by his ring. The mouth of the snake was open, a tube-like sharpened tongue protruding and contain ing several drops of a clear liquid, whiCh. upon examination, proved to be a deadly alkaloid poison. The ring is now in my possession, and when I look at it I say to myself: "There is such a thing as poetic justice." It Was a Shock to His Dignity. 3 enter New York Tribune. "A very pompous old fellow attracted my attention one evening in a restaurant," the late Stuart Robson, on his last visit to Washington, said to a newspaper man. "This old " chap had the stiff dignity of an emperor, and it suddenly oc curred to me that it would be amusing to give him some sort of a shock. On the spur of the moment I walked up behind him, slapped him on the back and exclaimed: " 'Hello, George, my dear fellow, how are you?' "He turned so suddenly that he upset his plate. He was wild with rage. " 'Why, I don't know you, sir. How dare you take such liberties with me?' he stuttered. "I apologized, saying that I had mistaken him for some one else, but he could not b mollified. As I Withdrew, he glared scornfully after me. all red and tremulous with anger. "Crane and I were playing together at the time, and In a little while Crane, with whom I had an appointment to dine, arrived. I pointed out the pompous old chap to him. " 'Wouldn't it be funny,' I said, 'to shatter that old fel low's dignity by slapping him on the back and saying, 'Hello, George. Why, it must be years since I've seen you.' "Crane looked at him and gave a loud laugh. 'By Jove. I'll do it,' he said. " 'Oh, no, don't,' said I. 'He might make a scene.' "But when Crane gets an idea in his head nothing can drive it out. He now walked up behind the old man, slapped him heartily between the shoulders, and cried: " "Hello, George, my dear fellow. What a long time it has been since I've seen you.' "I saw the old man, purple with rage, jump up from his seat hastily and I withdrew. For I perceived that a scene or something worse was imminent, and I have always been an enemy to scenes." v ^ Long Distance Drivers. More tnan 20,000 miles, or nearly the circumference of . -- earth at the equator, is the distance the average London 'busman drives in the course of the year.